Hellfire
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: Stormy nights, dark rooms, sleeping humans, gorgeous demons. What else would you expect?


-Hellfire-

-Heyo, lovely readers and Minewt fans! This story. Oh my god, I love it. I'm not sure where this is going, but if this one-shot turns into a SERIES of one-shots, it'll be my new Minewt series. Of Minho & Newt is still going in the 30 Day Challenge, but dannnnng did I love this little fic. Let me know what you enjoyed, favorite parts, etc. I love hearing from you and I appreciate every review. Until next time! :)-

It began quite unexpectedly, in the middle of a storm-ridden night.

The windows of the Victorian-style house were lit in bursts by veins of spidery lightning. The soaring walls were shaken by roars of thunder. The roof drummed loudly with the constant, insistent pounding of rain. It had been a nonstop storm for the past two power was out. The halls and rooms that had been so familiar were now bathed in blackness. It only added to the growing eeriness of the night.

Outside, the long, gravel drive was empty. The garage too, had no cars parked inside. Therefore, the house was unoccupied—save for the teenage boy, asleep on the couch.

Minho Park, at the age of seventeen, was used to being left alone for the night while his parents went out to parties. And no, they were not the wild, party-going type. They were all business parties. Yes, "parties" consisting of men and women in crisp, tight suits and pleasantly fake smiles. Mr. and Mrs. Park seemed to enjoy a great deal of those affairs. Minho supposed they should, since they were the owners of the company.

Whatever.

He was just grateful that there was ice cream in the fridge and candles in the drawers; three, white flames danced upon the coffee table his socked feet were propped up on. They threw dark orange light on the high ceiling and plush, gray couch. They also illuminated the planes of Minho's sleeping face, his arms crossed loosely over his stomach, and his long legs out in front of him. He was, of course, deep in dreams, so he didn't notice that he was being examined by something else in the house...

Humans did not have any right to possess such features. Truly, it was a sin itself for any of them to look the way that this one did: messily spiked hair, black as raven's wings, smudges of eyelashes above flawless cheekbones... Broad shoulders narrowing down to his waist... Head angled to the side just right as he slept, revealing the truly delectable curve of his throat. And all of this encased in tight denim jeans and a white T-shirt. Minho Park was a catch, a tease, the epitome of beauty in a pitifully HUMAN body.

Oh, how Newt hated when that happened.

Minho didn't stir while the shadows danced on the walls in erratic patterns. He didn't shift in his sleep when a candle sputtered and then winked out with a puff of smoke. He didn't wake when one, long shadow peeled itself down off the wall and seated itself beside him.

He DID wake up, however, when something tugged on his hair.

"What the shuck?!" Minho flailed groggily with an arm, batting something away from his head. Through eyes foggy with tiredness, he blinked several times in the dark. There was nothing to be seen in the room. The TV screen was as black as ever, as were the windows. One of his candles had blown out somehow. Running a hand through his hair and wondering at the sensation, he laid back against the couch cushions again.

Then he glanced at the space beside him.

A pair of violently glowing eyes seared him, and a Cheshire smile stretched beneath them. "Hello."

Minho was pretty sure he died. He gave a loud shout of fear, snatching his legs off the coffee table and scrambling across the couch. His back knocked painfully against the couch's arm and he hissed. "Dammit! H—how did you get in here?! Don't move, I'm calling the cops!"

A gleeful cackle rose from the fiery, blue eyes. "Oh, do call them, I'd LOVE to see their reactions!" a silvery, accented voice laughed.

Minho gripped the couch arm behind him with trembling fingers. "What..?" He shook his head. "I'm serious!"

"So am I!"

"Who—?"

"No, no, I ask the questions here, human." With that, a hand appeared, lifting out of the blackness. It snapped its fingers and a figure came into view, as plain as day against a backdrop of darkness. It reclined on the couch like a king, legs crossed, arms hanging from the back of the couch behind it. It looked at Minho with that Cheshire smile.

Minho's heart leapt up into his throat. "What the hell are you?" he asked hoarsely. He wanted to move, wanted to RUN, but something was holding him in place.

"I am," the thing, which looked like a boy, said pleasantly. "Holding you in place, I mean. Can't have you running off on me, now can I?" It examined its ebony nails casually.

"Wha...what are you?" Minho asked again, because there was no other question he could think to ask.

"I thought I said I ask the questions here." The boy raised his eyebrows in a chastising manner, as though Minho was a naughty boy that deserved to be punished. "And my question is this: do you believe in demons?" He went back to studying his nails in a practiced fashion.

Minho was stunned into silence. Demon? As in, a DEMON demon? He didn't answer, but gaped at the boy with new horror and faint fascination. This was bad. This was really bad. The boy was much too terrifying and much too PERFECT to be human, now that Minho studied him properly. He had a wild shock of blonde hair and blue eyes, the exact color of the blue at a flame's core. His clothing style was immaculate: black, tailored slacks and a vest over a white button-down shirt. The shirt was normal enough, sleeves rolled crisply up to the elbows. But the vest's color was...strange, constantly shifting from black, to violet, to vibrant red, all studded with stars. Like the universe, Minho thought absently.

The demon caught him looking and a wicked smirk flirted with his full lips. "I'm waiting," he commented lightly.

"E—excuse me?" Minho stuttered out.

"I'm waiting for my answer. Do you believe in demons or not, human?"

Minho tried desperately to move then, but the demon's eyes flashed like ice; Minho's body stiffened against his will. He gritted his teeth. "I—Yes."

"How delightful," the demon replied. It waved a hand with a flourish. "Then I suppose I can tell you what I am..."

"I—I think I know."

"You do? Oh, even better."

"But what...what do you want with me?"

"Nothing much, love, don't worry about it." The boy waved his hand again, dismissive now. He flicked an invisible speck of dust from his knee. "For now, there are only a few things you need to know about me and one thing I need to know about you. I'll give you some answers, and in return, I expect a favor. My reward will be to promise no harm to you."

Minho's mind spun with the words. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like this. "What kind of favor?" he asked uneasily.

The demon pointed at him scoldingly. "Ah ah ah; don't question me like that, Minho." The boy gave no response to how Minho jumped at the sound of his name. "I'm the person in charge here, not you. Now. Do you want my answers, or not?" He gave Minho a wide-eyed, questioning look, shatteringly innocent.

Minho needed to get the hell out of here. But he could think of no way to defeat a freaking DEMON. So, swallowing, he muttered, "okay."

The demon smiled again, pleased. "Great. Now then, here's what you need to know about me: my name is a horribly long, horridly complicated thing of Latin that I'll spare you. Call me Newt. Secondly, yes, I am, indeed, a demon. So don't think of trying anything. And thirdly, I'm here because...well, I believe your favor to me should answer that enough."

"F—favor?" Minho stammered.

"Yes, favor." Newt slanted a devilish glance over at Minho from under gilded, lovely eyelashes. "Would you like to give it to me now?"

Minho's palms were sweating. Damn, that voice. He was terrified and mystified all at once, unable to help himself. Newt was a true predator, heartbreakingly attractive to his prey. Luring Minho in seemed to be all too easy to him. "I don't..."

Expressive eyebrows flicked up. "Excuse me?"

"Just tell me why you're here—"

"I told you, your favor to me will explain that."

"But I can't...Just tell me what it is, please—"

"Darling boy, it is just delicious when you beg..."

A shudder crawled down Minho's spine. He struggled to break free of the phantom hold on him, but it was still no use. "P—please," he blurted out, and was horrified by how Newt hummed in satisfaction at the word. "I don't know what you want with me, but I'll do anything. Just let me go. I'll do anything, I'll do your favor—"

That was a mistake.

Newt's eyes flickered hungrily. "Deal."

He was across the couch in less than a second. Minho yelped in sudden, consuming fear and brought his arms up to shield from the attack. A vice-like grip seized his ankles and yanked him down onto the couch; his back met the cushions with a hard thump. That same grip tightened painfully on his wrists then. A squeak of pain escaped him as his wrists were hauled up and pinned to the couch arm above his head. Chest heaving, he found himself face-to-face with Newt. The demon was now above him, knees caging Minho's hips, and blonde hair falling about his face. A wide, wolfish grin twisted his lips and he gazed down at the human boy.

Minho started trembling. "D—don't—" he managed, as Newt parted his grin to show wickedly sharp teeth, and he lowered his head. Minho braced himself for fangs to sink into his skin.

Instead, there was only a graze of teeth along his throat, trailing up to his ear. Minho's eyes shot open as the touch reached the place beneath his ear. His breath hitched when those teeth nipped at his earlobe. "What're you doing?" he asked shakily.

Newt gave a low sound from the back of his throat. "I'm taking my favor," he replied casually.

Another shiver traveled up Minho's body as Newt ran his tongue along the curve of Minho's ear. "You want ME?"

"Now, you're catching on, love." Newt moved down to press his lips to Minho's neck again.

Minho was appalled when he had to fight back a whimper. Newt's lips were so soft, devastatingly so, as they traced hot paths up and down Minho's neck. His breaths started coming faster. "No," he choked. "Stop."

"Terribly sorry, but this deal is set and my favor is mine to take." Nudging Minho's head aside with his own, Newt set his mouth at Minho's neck and sucked.

"Stop," Minho tried again, though his nerves were on fire. "I don't want this."

"You're absolutely lovely when you tell me to stop," Newt purred against Minho's throat. The vibrations of his voice made Minho bite his lip.

"Please."

"Sweet thing, do beg some more," Newt cooed, and he left a last kiss on Minho's jaw before he raised his head. His gaze burned into Minho with such intensity, he wasn't sure how he survived it. Newt cocked his head to the side, studying Minho's flushed skin and heated breaths. "I did promise not to harm you," he murmured in his silver voice.

Minho nodded once.

"So won't you entertain a demon's request?"

"For what?"

"For a kiss." Minho's eyes widened in surprise and Newt's beautifully evil grin surfaced again. "Yes, all I want from you is a kiss," he explained. "And after...well, after, you may take whatever YOU want." He chuckled. "I'm quite sure you'll want more, pretty thing."

Wary, Minho carefully studied the demon's face. "Just a kiss?" he asked, keeping his voice from wavering.

"Cross my heart and hope to live in Hell." Newt's lightning-blue eyes twinkled.

Minho licked his lips nervously. "...all right."

"Marvelous." With no other warning, Newt lowered his mouth onto Minho's.

Oh. Oh, he hadn't expected it to be like this. Newt's lips were like Heaven and Hell on Minho's, softly touching and then fiercely pressing into his own. Minho couldn't remember the last time he'd kissed someone other then a fumbling girl or drunk guy. It was nothing like this kiss was. His eyelids fluttered shut and he tipped his head for a better angle. Their mouths slotted together and stars spun behind Minho's eyes. Careful, he parted his lips and Newt made a sound of delight. Then he was kissing like he MEANT it, licking soft gasps from Minho's tongue. He tasted like hellfire, all sharp and smoldering, and Minho moaned. He was far too addicted to this already.

After an eternity or maybe only a few moments, Newt pulled away. He was perfectly unruffled, while Minho was a panting mess. Dazed, Minho stared at Newt as he slowly released Minho's wrists. The corner of those soft lips quirked. "What a kiss, indeed," Newt remarked. He was watching Minho intently. He straightened up an inch, as though preparing to stand, and leave.

Minho did the most stupid thing ever. He grabbed the back of Newt's neck and crushed their mouths together again.

The demon sighed in satisfaction, immediately tasting Minho's tongue with his own, sucking briefly on his bottom lip. Minho felt incredibly alive and scared and daring all at once. He knew he should run, get far away from this thing, but he couldn't. Perfect predator. How true that was. After only a kiss, Minho was under Newt's spell. Boldly, he tangled his fingers in Newt's hair and reveled in its silken perfection. Newt skimmed elegant fingers down Minho's body, lighting up his skin through his T-shirt. Minho breathed out a "yes" into Newt's mouth and Newt made a little, pained noise. He pushed Minho's shirt up and Minho didn't protest. Cool palms laid flat on his stomach and then slid up his torso, exploring. Nails ran down his chest and Minho groaned, feeling Newt's grin against his lips. Too much, too close, not enough not enough.

"Lovely little thing," Newt crooned, biting Minho's lip and caressing his bare sides. "Devine little human...what do you want?"

Minho's mind was a jumbled scramble. He basked in Newt's touches and nearly whined at the absence of Newt's kisses. This couldn't be what he wanted, not with a demon, surely— "You," he whispered.

Catlike, Newt's eyes glittered. "Is that an invitation?" he asked, soft as velvet.

"To what?"

"To come back."

Minho blinked. "You're leaving?" he asked, relieved. Or...disappointed?

"The night is young and there is much hell I've yet to raise." Newt smirked, a sinister twist of the mouth that could make grown men's knees give out. "But if you admit you want me, I can come back. A permission that many demons want from humans they hunt."

"You're hunting me?" Minho's stomach dropped.

"Yes, but most monsters want your soul." Newt showed off his pointed teeth. "I want your heart."

Of all the silly things to do, Minho blushed.

Newt leaned in close. "Won't you let me come back?" he asked softly. His breath tickled Minho's face, a promise of more to come.

Despite himself, Minho nodded. "Okay. I mean, yes." He nearly smiled. "I want you to."

Newt grinned the way wolves do, all fangs and hunger. He bent his head even closer, until his nose was brushing Minho's and his bangs tickled Minho's forehead. "I'm sure you won't regret that answer, Minho," he murmured, Minho's name dripping from his tongue like spilled molasses. "When I return, I'll see what other favors I can ask of you. If you ever wish to see me..." He trailed off, letting his eyes run seductively along every inch of Minho's body. "Well, I think I'll save the summoning-a-demon lesson for another time, hm? For now, I'd much rather like to surprise you."

Minho couldn't deny the way his pulse raced at those words. This time, he sensed that Newt was really about to leave. So he took hold of Newt's collar to make him pause. "Wait," he said, and Newt arched a brow. "Why...why me? Don't you want someone of your own kind?"

At this Newt laughed, a sound like pure sin, and looked at Minho pityingly. "My own kind? Why, none of them are worth the sins one must put in to impress them. I was born a demon; I did not choose a life of eternal Hell and wrongdoing." Then he swooped in, startlingly fast, and sealed a hard kiss to Minho's lips. "Besides," he whispered, their lips brushing, "not one of them is as dangerously tempting as a forbidden and breathtaking human."

Minho couldn't resist and pecked Newt's mouth again. "Okay."

Newt lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. In an instant, he was gone. The candles flickered but did not die. The shadows flitted back and forth on the ceiling. But there was no stunning demon, and no gorgeous silver voice in the dark. He was gone like smoke blown by the wind. Minho, lying with his shirt shoved up to his chest and a dumb fog in his eyes, couldn't begin to fathom what had just happened. Hell, he'd hardly believe it wasn't a dream, if he couldn't still feel his lips tingling from Newt's rough kisses or his skin seared by greedy touches. Yanking his shirt back into place, Minho laid back on the couch and blew out a shuddery breath.

Had he really just invited a DEMON to COME BACK?


End file.
